Grammy nominations concert: close to the complete tableau of American hell

Nobody turns to American music award ceremonies to see a true representation of the best music of the year. But do they turn to them to see the worst? Yes, would seem to be the verdict from whatever devilish minds put together Wednesday night's evil special, "The Grammy Nominations Concert Live!"

Other than sadism, there can be no other explanation for the sonic boom of hell that was a live duet featuring that master of subtlety, Ludacris – a singer perhaps best known for a song that features the Shakespearean chorus of "Get back, motherfucker, you don't know me like that" – and Jason Aldean, an extraordinary young man whose life ambition appears to be to marry the two genres of rap and country music.

If you think that sounds like a marriage that would make Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? look a model of romance, you would be underestimating what it's like to watch a man do hip-hop hand gestures while wearing a cowboy hat with Ludacris gurning in the wings. All that was lacking was background imagery of strip malls and the Kardashians for the tableau of American hell to be complete.

As is always the way with these shows, the nominations themselves were the least memorable part of the event, primarily because they were both predictable and daft. Adele and Lady Gaga got their inevitable nods; Bruno Mars – a young man whose popularity remains a mystery to me, possibly because I always confuse him with Jamie Cullum – was another popular choice. Any surprises were surprising only by their nonsensical nature. Bon Iver, for example, were nominated in the Best New Artist category because, according to the Grammys, if you've never been nominated before, you're a newcomer, even if you have already released an album. If that makes sense to anyone, please do email me to elaborate. Maybe you can also explain the precise distinction between Album, Song and Record of the Year as that strikes me as being as unnecessarily convoluted as the popularity of Katy Perry (Record of the Year).

While Kanye West got seven nominations in total, his album, My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy, was not nominated for Best Album, despite most music critics lavishing so much praise on it one might have thought it was the cure for cancer. Hilariously, Skrillex – a man recently featured in the Guardian in an article headlined – Is Skrillex the most hated man in dubstep? – must now be referred to as "Grammy-nominated Skrillex."

Then there was the equally predictable and equally cringe worthy Let's Honour the Old and/or Dead! segment, which, as usual, featured modern singers trampling on the legacy of their elders.

To be fair, LL Cool J, Lupe Fiasco, Rick Ross and Common's rendition of The Message with the Grandmaster Flash wasn't too painful, even if they all appeared to be having a lot more fun than anyone else. L L Cool J – who was also the host and came to the event dressed as Guy Ritchie, replete with tweeds and flat cap – bounced about the stage with all the reticence one would expect of a man whose self-given name is an avowal of his popularity with the ladeez.

Usher's homage to Leiber & Stoller and Ashford and Simpson, in which he was joined by the surviving member of each of those songwriting duos, was decidedly not fun, mainly because Usher's facial expressions suggested he was just about breaking through some severe constipation. So maybe fun for him, then.

The show opened and closed – as it surely had to – with performances by Lady Gaga who came dressed as the lovechild of Adam Ant, Marilyn Manson and every bad Alexander McQueen show some of us had ever seen. Yet for all her much flaunted unconventionality (if not originality), Gaga still is not averse to saying such decidedly conventional things as "I want you all to stand up and have a good time!" while flanked by a bunch of buff backing dancers doing synchronised aerobics as though the 80s never ended. But she does deserve credit for sporting make up that appeared to be designed so as to render her noseless. I surely speak for us all when I say that I look forward to Vogue doing a "Get the look" version of that one.

After that, Nicki Minaj, who announced the nominees for Record of the Year, looked downright conventional, not least because she seemed to be a zombie reading an autocue that was written by robots ("If you record music you want to win Record of the Year!") She served as a double confirmation that just because a woman might dress crazy, she isn't necessarily all that interesting.

But while Lady Gaga's first performance was solo, her final one was a duet with Sugarland, a deeply tedious country and western duo. This was a useful reminder of how big C & W is in the States, and why it is hated everywhere else.

So given that the nominations were all over the shop, to say nothing of the performances, and the winners won't even be announced until February, I bring you, the Guardian Grammys!

Worst hairTough one, what with Minaj's Barbie doll pink confection and the fact that L L Cool J's hair is clearly so terrible he now protects the public's eyes from it by keeping it covered with a flat cap. But ultimately, the prize has to go to The Band Perry, a popular C & W band comprised of one blonde perm and two Noel Fieldings, but without the, you know, irony.

Best snubKanye West, for getting more nominations than anyone else, but still not bothering to turn up. I like to think that he got distracted en route and is currently running around F A O Schwartz, re-enacting scenes from Big.Second best snubThe voice-over presenter who kept referring to LL Cool J as "the star of NCIS: Los Angeles." And seminal rapper? Whoa, don't call it a comeback!

Most boring trendPink hair, as sported by Nicki Minaj and Katy Perry. For those of us who were the proud owners of Jem dolls in the 80s, this trend is not nearly as groundbreaking as the ladies seem to think.

Worst dancingNicki Minaj, by a long shot. It's not so much dancing as just waggling her boobs at the camera while opening her mouth in 'hilarity.' Yes, exactly like your Aunt Doris at your cousin David's bar'mitzvah. Exactly that.